Rumble Tumble

I pulled at the exit door, but it was stuck. I kicked at it and it came open. I got hold of Tillie and tried to lift her, but the wounds, the loss of blood, the crash, it had taken everything out of me. I had to sit down on the floor with her.

Leonard appeared. He picked Tillie up and carried her out. Brett got hold of my arm and helped me out of the plane, onto the ground. Herman and Red followed. Leonard went back in. He came out carrying Irvin, who was unconscious. He went back in and brought Bill out. When he laid Bill on the ground Bill’s body moved like mercury flows. The foot on one leg faced the wrong way.

“He’s dead,” Leonard said.

“No shit,” I said. “What about Irvin?”

“Unconscious.”

“I want everyone to relax now,” Red said. We turned to look at him. His head was bleeding and his suit jacket was almost ripped off. He was holding one of the Winchesters, pointing it at us.

“From here on out,” he said, “we do as I say.”

Leonard moved incredibly quick. He grabbed the Winchester by the barrel, snatched it away from Red, whirled it around his head and cracked Red a solid one over the ear. Red decided he had to lie down on that one. He held his head with one hand, said, “Oh God, I think something is broken.”

“I advise we get away from the plane,” Leonard said. “And if anyone else has any ideas about guns or fighting, let’s get it over with now.”

No one did.

Leonard kicked Irvin a few times. Irvin grunted, opened an eye. “You can lay here, or you can get up,” Leonard said. “Personally, I think what’s left of your plane could blow.”

Leonard picked up Tillie. Brett gave me a boost and helped me walk. My injuries only hurt now when I walked, breathed, or batted my eyelashes.

I looked back. Herman and Red followed, Red holding his head. Irvin rolled to his hands and knees, crawled, finally made his footing and began to stagger after us.

The plane didn’t exactly blow. It just burned and gave off a few muffled pops. It lit up the night sky like an oil well fire.

29

We made our way to the big tin hangar. We had parked our car and Bill’s truck in there. Irvin finally caught up with us. He had a key to the shed and he unlocked it. When he pulled the bolt back, Leonard put Tillie down, gave me the Winchester, helped Irvin open the huge doors. Leonard picked Tillie up again, and we went inside.

When we were just in the door, the lights came on.

The shed was full of very large men in very nice suits that had dust on them. One of the very large men was Wilber. He was the only one that didn’t have on a nice suit. He had on a cheap suit. He was still wearing his neck brace. He looked like a whiplashed Kodiak bear that had just finished shopping a Sears sale.

One of the men wore a charcoal gray suit with a dark gray shirt and gray and blue tie with red highlights on it. His hair was combed down tight and he had the faintest touch of whiskery shadow. He was smoking a cigar, sitting on an old stool that came with the shed. He had a handkerchief draped over the stool and his ass was on that.

It was Big Jim, and his expression was somewhere between amused and amazed. He had his legs crossed just right so as not to ruin the crease. His shoes appeared to be brand-new. He was looking past us, out the open doors at the blazing plane.

All the big men, except Jim, had big guns. They closed in behind us and pointed their big guns and took the Winchester from me. I didn’t try to fight. That would have been useless. Red, bleeding slightly from the head wound Leonard had given him, smiled, limped over, and stood by one of the big men. He looked as happy as an erect dick.

We were searched then. The man who searched Brett spent too much time at it. Leonard had been forced to place Tillie on the ground, and the same man went over and pulled up her shirt and looked at her for a moment.

I said, “They call them women.”

The big man grinned at me and held the big automatic he was carrying against his leg and tapped it there, as if trying to decide if shooting me would be more fun than beating me to death.

Big Jim got off the stool, walked past us, stood at the open door and watched the plane burn. He said, “We heard it, but I hate to say we missed it. Anyone get killed?”

“One,” I said.

“Ah,” Big Jim said, “I’d say that’s pretty good odds. One out of all of you. ’Course, you look like hell, and surviving that isn’t going to do you any good.”

“Red told you we’d be here, didn’t he?” I said.

“That’s right,” Big Jim said. “He called us from someplace in Mexico. Some cantina, wasn’t it, Red?”

“Yes, sir,” Red said, still a happy erection.

Big Jim went back to his stool. He sat down on it and puffed his cigar. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and pointed the red end in Leonard’s and my direction. “You know, it took some balls, you guys to come into my whorehouse like that, shoot Moose in the foot, take my midget. Real balls. I respect that. Really. But, it pisses me off too. Red here, he says he wasn’t part of it, but you know, I got to wonder.”